


I Can't Believe It Myself

by edgarallanrose



Series: Crossover Crack [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, First Kiss, M/M, One Shot, Sherlock circa season 2, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 10:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5963713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallanrose/pseuds/edgarallanrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, this man,” Sherlock cut in, “Cas…or Steve-“<br/>“It’s Cas, yes,” John said while taking a sip of his tea, forgetting it was cold.<br/>“I take it he is an ex-lover of Dean’s?”<br/>John choked on his tea.</p><p>John introduces Sherlock to the American TV show "Supernatural." Sherlock introduces John to the concept of a bisexual Dean Winchester. John doesn't know how to feel about any of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Believe It Myself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [castielle_watson_winchester_holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielle_watson_winchester_holmes/gifts).



> AT LONG LAST a companion piece for [The Curious Incident of the Sherlock Marathon in the Nighttime](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4650279/) !!! I received this as a prompt 400 years ago and am only just now posting it. Whooooops
> 
> Can be read as a standalone, the pieces are only similar in absurdity and theme. I'm only sort of sorry for writing these.  
> A thousand million thanks to my baller beta, Brit-picker and BFF [hhuricaneunderneath](http://hhurricaneunderneath.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Title is a lyric borrowed from the song "Believe It or Not," which Cas sings as a lullaby in the episode "Heaven Can't Wait."

The flickering blue light from the telly illuminated the walls of 221B as John finally settled in for the evening, tucked snug in his chair with a cuppa at his side. He was starting to feel himself doze off when the door to the flat banged open and Sherlock flew in. He headed straight to the kitchen with his coat billowing and hair windswept from spending hours prowling the damp London streets. John resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“So was there a case?” John asked. He heard his flatmate rummaging, opening and closing cupboards before Sherlock poked his head out of the kitchen.

“Why is there no toast?” Sherlock asked.

“Funny thing about toast,” John sighed, “is that it is actually just bread…that you have toasted. And we do have bread.”

“So…no toast?” Sherlock clarified.

“Not unless you want to make it.”

Sherlock exited the kitchen with a harrumph and perched on his chair, toeing off his shoes before tucking his feet under his body and wrapping himself in his coat.

“What, so that’s it? There’s no toast readily available so you just decide not to eat?”

Sherlock shrugged.

“Have you eaten today?” John questioned, throwing the detective an accusatory look. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and avoided John’s gaze. “Great, so that’s a no then. And since you actually want to eat I’m assuming there is no case?”

Sherlock smiled at that.

“Good, you’re getting better John,” he commented.

“Doesn’t take masterful skill of deduction to know you’re a prat.” John let out a long suffering sigh and got up from his chair. Sherlock might be the most ridiculous man John has ever met, but he still wasn’t going to let him pass out from low blood sugar on his watch… which, John realized, Sherlock probably knew and had manipulated this knowledge to his advantage.

“Do you want tea while I’m in here?” John asked, placing two slices of bread in the toaster. “Kettle’s still hot.”

“No, thank you,” Sherlock mumbled into the collar of his coat.

John drummed his fingers on the countertop while he watched Sherlock sink deeper into his chair. The man looked ill. He had dark circles under his eyes and even from just the glow of the telly his skin looked pallid. When John had woken up this morning Sherlock was already gone. He had checked his mobile throughout the day at the surgery to see if Sherlock would call on him, but he hadn’t. John tried not to worry, Sherlock did this all the time after all, but he had still been going back and forth all day debating whether or not to give Mycroft a ring.

“What’s this you’re watching?” Sherlock asked.

“Hmm?” John was quickly shaken from his thoughts.

“On the telly, what is this?”

“Oh, uh, an American program Mrs. Hudson introduced me to called _Supernatural_ ,” John said. The toast popped up from the toaster and John tried to take it out quickly as he could to avoid burning his fingers. “Do you want jam?”

“Yes, blackberry. So I’ve noticed this main character, Dean, is on a case of some sort? But I’m not sure what sort of absurd murder this is supposed to be, with liquefied people all over the walls and floors. It seems very far from the realm of possibility.”

“So you should be able to solve it in a matter of seconds then, right?” John turned to smirk at Sherlock, who still had his eyes glued to the telly. “They’re not exactly your kind of cases, Sherlock.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The premise of the show is that they hunt monsters. They drive across America to solve supernatural cases with ghosts and demons, paranormal things.”

“It’s about monsters? That’s ridiculous,” Sherlock scoffed.

“Well it’s not _about_ monsters, that’s just what they do,” John explained, scraping jam across the slices of toast. “It’s about family and responsibility. Good versus evil. That sort of thing.”

“Mmm,” Sherlock hummed, frowning at the screen but continuing to watch none the less.

“It’s a fantasy, Sherlock, it’s not supposed to be real.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t have to.”

“Mmm.”

John returned to their spot in front of the fireplace and balanced the plate of toast atop Sherlock’s knees. Sherlock mumbled his thanks and delicately took a bite. John took a sip of his tea, only to discover it had gone cold. He shook his head, giving up, and turned his attention to the program.

_Dean Winchester had found Castiel working at a Gas ‘n’ Sip somewhere in Idaho. He approached the register with a charming grin._

_“I’ll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols.”_

_Cas was taken aback, almost upset._

_“What are you doing here?”_

_“Gee, it’s nice to see you too, Cas.”_

_“It’s Steve now,” Cas corrected, gesturing to his nametag. “And…you-you surprised me.”_

“So, this man,” Sherlock cut in, “Cas…or Steve-“

“It’s Cas, yes,” John said while taking a sip of his tea, forgetting it was cold.

“I take it he is an ex-lover of Dean’s?”

John choked on his tea.

“What?” He spluttered. “No, he, um, where’d you get that idea?”

“It’s painfully obvious from this conversation alone,” he said. “The classic jilted lover. It seems that Dean has wronged him in some way. Dean doesn’t realize how much he’s hurt him and is oblivious to Cas’ resentment. So, it was an unrequited love, perhaps, or never spoken of aloud. Dean probably felt he didn’t have a choice when he did whatever he did that hurt Cas, thinking what he did was actually for the better, not taking his feelings into account.”

“Well, yes, technically that’s what happened. Though it was never love, just friendship,” John argued.

“No.” Sherlock shook his head, setting his curls into a further state of disarray.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Oh, please, you can read the physical tension between them! Look how close they’re standing! They hold eye contact far longer than average! Their expressions and body language show clear signs of arousal.”

John frowned and watched the scene for a moment.

“I’ve always thought…alright, I will admit, I have thought that Castiel might feel a bit more than he’s letting on. Not Dean though, with a man? Absolutely not. His character is very much the typical lady’s man, he loves women.”

“Overcompensation,” Sherlock said.

“What now?”

“He’s obviously bisexual and overcompensates for his homosexual feelings by overplaying his heterosexual ones. He most likely has a very strong case of internalized homophobia, not uncommon in American men, though not exclusive to them. In all likelihood he grew up in a household without a female present and a strong father figure who instilled these values. Furthermore he probably had to be a parent figure himself for somebody else, odds on a younger sibling, probably a brother. Father is dead now, this would have only strengthened his flawed notions of what true manhood is and the example he had to lead by.” Sherlock paused for a breath, and then raised a challenging eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

“Um, no.” John grumbled. “Don’t know why I even bothered watching the first season if you could just tell it to me after watching one scene.”

Sherlock smiled, smug, but refrained from saying anything else.

John found himself distracted as the episode went on, unable to read any scenes between Dean and Castiel as anything but romantic now. His world was shaken. Dean had always been the character he identified with the most, very much the veteran soldier himself though not in the exact same sense that John was. Was his sexuality something that John had subconsciously recognized?

_Dean is dropping off Cas at the house for a supposed date. As Cas exits the car, Dean calls out,_

_“Cas. Wait. I can’t let you do this.”_

_“What?”_

_Dean looks him up and down. Cas is wearing his Gas ‘n’ Sip uniform._

_“You’re gonna wear that? On a date?”_

_“This is all I have, Dean.”_

_“Okay. Uh, lose the vest.”_

_“What are you – “_

_“Lose the vest, come on.”_

John swallowed. The scene felt sexually charged, but maybe he was reading it wrong, his mind now tainted by Sherlock’s theory.

_“That’s a little better. All right.” Dean tossed the vest in the back seat of the Impala. “There we go, all right. And now your buttons – why don’t you unbutton it?”_

_Cas started undoing the buttons of his shirt, getting down about three buttons before Dean stops him._

_“Th-that’s far enough Tony Manero.”_

_Dean was eyeing Cas like he was a piece of meat and Dean hadn’t eaten in weeks. A fond smile tugged at the corner of his mouth._

 It didn’t get a whole lot more obvious than that.

“I really thought they were just friends,” John muttered.

“Your heteronormative worldview is not your fault, John.”

“They _could_ still just be friends,” he pushed. “Maybe you’re reading into this too much; there’s nothing whatsoever that confirms they’re anything but really good friends.”

“Of course, John. As long as you’re a blind idiot they could definitely just be friends.”

“Well, we’re just friends,” John argued.

That seemed to give Sherlock pause, if only for a moment.

“Not according to the tabloid magazines,” he retorted.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! They make something out of nothing! Just because we live together and we’re…close. Close friends.” John was breathing hard through his nose and he could feel the blood pumping hard through his chest. Why was he so worked up?

“Right, close friends.”

Sherlock tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair for a moment before standing up abruptly.

“Goodnight, John.”

“Wha- you’re going to bed?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you want to finish the-?”

“Lost interest.”

Sherlock stalked down the hallway and slammed his bedroom door behind him. John stared after him, bemused.

\---

John finished the episode and thought about going to talk to Sherlock; however, as soon as he stood up he had the sudden urge to tidy the living room. Afterwards, he made it all the way to Sherlock’s door before realizing he really ought to do the dishes. Come to think of it, he had some laundry that might need folding as well.

An hour later, and with nothing else to occupy him, John finally knocked on Sherlock’s door. He took a deep breath. He knew what needed to be done now. He entered after he heard a muffled grunt that might have been “Come in.”

Sherlock was curled up on top of the blankets, facing away from the doorway. His coat was hung on the back of the door but he was otherwise still in all his clothes from earlier.

“All right?” John asked lamely.

“I’m sleeping,” he said.

“Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“You’re still in your trousers, Sherlock.”

“I’m comfortable this way.”

“Nobody is comfortable that way.”

Sherlock rolled over so he could glare at John properly.

“Did you just come in here to berate my sleeping preferences?”

“No,” John sighed, “I wanted to…that is…did I say something?”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed.

“You say a lot of things, John.”

“Don’t be smart, I mean I obviously upset you.”

“Nonsense.” Sherlock flopped back down on the bed, away from John, attempting to end the conversation. John wasn’t letting him have his way this time. He sat down at the edge of bed and placed a hand on Sherlock’s knee to get his attention. Sherlock jumped and stared at John before sitting up to look John in the eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I want to talk,” John said earnestly.

“Fine.” Sherlock paused, and then moved so he faced squarely in front of John. “Please tell me, John, why you find it so hard to believe the possibility that two men, fictional men at that, might be interested in each other as something other than friends?”

John swallowed. Right to it then.

“Like you said. Maybe I’ve been raised not to look at things that way. To…deny things that others might think were obvious.”

Sherlock was already getting suspicious. Good. The sooner he figured it out, the less John would have to talk about it.

“So you do believe Dean Winchester to be bisexual?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think…a lot of people are bisexual,” John said. His words sounded strained even to him. He looked at Sherlock meaningfully, but Sherlock just frowned.

“John why are looking at me like – mmph!”

John silenced him with a kiss. He was done talking.

Sherlock remained still, not kissing back. John belatedly realized that he had awkwardly kept his hands close to his sides, too focused on lips meeting to think about touching Sherlock first to warn him what he was about to do. He leaned back and looked at Sherlock’s face, his expression unreadable.

“That okay?” John asked.

“God, yes.”

Sherlock leaned back in with such force that he knocked John backwards onto the bed.

John wasn’t sure how long they kissed. It may have been minutes, it may have been months. John let himself touch Sherlock now, fingers threading through dark curls and untucking the tails of his shirt so he could slide his palms against the bare skin of Sherlock’s rib cage. Sherlock was equally handsy, and surprisingly gentle. When he eventually pulled away John protested with a whine.

“I’d be interested,” Sherlock began, his voice breathless, “to see if Dean and Cas ever act on their feelings.”

“Well, it’s American television, so I doubt it,” John said.

“Hmm,” Sherlock thought. “John?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’ll take off my trousers now.”

“Oh, thank God.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading errybody! Sooooo I'm marking this series as complete for right now, but I am not opposed to writing more silly things along this line with other pairings if anyone would be down for that??? I will consider requests, but I'll only write for fandoms I'm part of, some of which I will list below!
> 
> -Merlin  
> -X Files  
> -Marvel Cinematic Universe  
> -Harry Potter  
> -Doctor Who  
> -Hannibal
> 
> Find me on the tumblrverse! [edgarallanrose](http://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/)


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